


All the things you do for me

by themarvelwriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff, Steve Rogers Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 16:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themarvelwriter/pseuds/themarvelwriter
Summary: Steve thinks back on the times that he suffered from PTSD and you changed your behaviour about it.





	All the things you do for me

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more works on themarvelwriter.tumblr.com. I'm slowly putting everything on AO3.

He can’t stop staring at you. He can’t help himself. He has to look at you. Admire you. Take you in, every little detail.

It’s the middle of the night, probably around two in the morning. He can’t sleep, which isn’t uncommon. Sometimes he doesn’t dare to wander off to another world. He wants to stay awake so he can protect you at any given moment. But he also wants to admire you, even when you’re asleep. He keeps reminding himself what he has and how he will do everything to protect that.

Silk white sheets cover your body, except for your arms and head. Your hair is falling across the pillow, eyes shut so peacefully. Your lips are slightly parted and sometimes move; you must be dreaming. 

-

“Three…. Two…. One!”, you all cheer. “Happy New Year!”

There’s a small party in the Stark Tower, all the Avengers – except Thor – are there. You clink your glass with Natasha’s. When you’re about to take a sip, Steve yanks at your arm, making you face him. He puts you in a rough kiss, as if he wants to show you he’s glad you’re here with him. Teeth close to clashing, lips pressed together like it’s the last thing he will touch.

When he lets go, he whispers a small ‘happy new year’. You smile contently, arms wrapping around his neck, his hands find his way to your hips. “Happy New Year, babe”, you say softly.

The first fireworks are starting to evolve around you, the sound a bit muffled, but slowly coming closer to the tower.

Your hands are still holding on to Steve’s neck. You’re staring into his eyes, about to get lost in them. Even though the fireworks are beautiful, you’d rather look at your boyfriend all night.

It all changes quickly when a firework goes off close by, the sound cracking loudly. They closer they get, the prettier the view. You feel his hands starting to clench on your hips, nails digging lightly in to your skin. His eyes shut, eyebrows lowering.

“Steve? Honey? You okay?”, you ask worriedly. There’s something wrong and you can feel it. Sure, he digs his nails in your hips when you’re doing.. other things. But you can feel him stiffening up. Even the muscles in his neck start to harden.

His eyes open again, uncertainty in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His jaw is clenched as he rips himself away from you and the rest of the company. You want to go after him, but a hand stops you.

“Give him some space. Trust me”, Natasha says with a soft voice.

-

It was the first time you saw him having issues with his PTSD. Whenever Steve thinks back on it, he can’t stop cursing himself. How he pulled you into it. But every time he apologised, you told him that he has nothing to be sorry for. That you will never understand what he has been through and therefore can’t judge him.

But what you did after, that’s what made him weak in the legs. It made him look at you in a different way, positively. It made him fall in love with you a thousand times more.

You rented a cosy wooden cabin outside in the woods, two hour drive from New York. Tony helped you with the finances and went overboard; he rented the entire campsite for the two of you. You lit some candles, brought some classic movies and a few board games.

You told him two weeks in advance just in case he didn’t want to go, but oh he did. His heart was leaping with joy when it occurred to him that it was your idea. That you went out of your way to make sure he wasn’t bothered with loud noises and busy places.

Thor gave you a little bit of Asgardian liquor, just in case Steve – or you, but you didn’t dare – wanted to have some of it. Steve packed his favourite blanket and went to the store to get some hot chocolate, since he knows how much you love that.

And so you went. First watching one of your favourite Disney movies, which he loved as well, and then some board games with a hot cocoa on the side. If emoji’s were real, Steve would’ve had heart-eyes all evening. He loved you so fucking much.

-

You got up early this morning, earlier than Steve. That doesn’t happen often. Normally you would wake him, but he had a rough couple of days so you decided he could use a little treat.

Slowly you get yourself out of bed and into your slippers. You sneak to the kitchen and start cooking some bacon and scrambled eggs.

When your phone rings, you happily answer. It’s one of your friends who’s asking if you can hang out. You decide against it, since Steve’s finally gotten a day off and you can hang out with him, doing whatever he wants to do. And so you chat a little, catching up on each other’s lives and planning another date for you two to go grab lunch together.

The moment you smell the strong smell of bacon, you know that you fucked up. You quickly tell your friend goodbye before turning around and getting the bacon off of the stove. You curse lightly, but decide that it’s no big deal. He’ll like the scrambled eggs anyway.

“What’s that smell?”, you hear from behind. You turn around with a little smirk. “I cooked you some eggs and bacon. But I lost track of time. So now it’s only eggs”, you say with that same smirk on your face.

When you meet Steve’s face, you can see he’s definitely not comfortable. He grabs his jacket off the kitchen chair, watches you with his Captain-face and clenches his hand tightly into a fist. “You get rid of that smell. Now. I’m going for a walk. The smell better be gone when I’m back.”

And with that. He’s out of the door and you’re on the verge of crying. What did you do wrong?

-

When he calmed down, he came back and explained why he walked out on you like that. The burnt bacon smelled like burned human flesh. It reminded him of horrible times.

You couldn’t contain your tears when he explained and he tried to shush you. You would be lying if you didn’t think of breaking up with him. Not because you couldn’t handle it. No, because you were reminding him of horrible things and horrible feelings. You felt like a terrible girlfriend. Someone not worthy of his time.

The following months, you didn’t dare to make bacon again. But he loved bacon. So once he was up early and surprised you with scrambled eggs and bacon. He showed you that he did like bacon, but not if it’s burned. And so you cooked together from then on.

-

You groan lazily, eyes still trying to get used to the bright daylight coming in to your vision. Your eyes drift to your left side, where Steve is still sleeping, his bare back showing. It looks so cuddly. His hair is all ruffled up, his whole body is relaxed and his breathing is calm. You loved to hear him sleep so peacefully.

You sneak up to him and put your arm around him, your breasts pressing against his back. You sigh content, smelling his hair with it.

Steve jolts awake, pushing you away harshly. Panic in his eyes.

This is the first time you recognize it. It’s his PTSD. You did something you shouldn’t have done.

“Fuck. Sorry, shit. Sorry”, you start to apologize. You scoot away a bit, giving him his space. “I didn’t- Shit. Fuck. Sorry”, you keep saying. You don’t know what else to say. You don’t want him to feel this way and you keep doing shit that fucks things up.

Tears blur your vision again as you try to calm him down. But he already is. Well, at least, in such way that he knows that he has nothing to be worried about. You’re the one who’s freaking out now.

He gives you your moment, knowing that everything he’ll say will backfire. He lets you apologize. He lets you cry.

After you come out of your haze, you see that he’s alright. He’s still here, softness slowly appearing in his eyes again. “It’s okay, baby. You didn’t know.” You didn’t. But you should.

You had a long talk after that. He knew he was avoiding talking about his PTSD. He was ashamed to have these issues, but you made him feel comfortable. You made sure he could lay out every problem he had. He trusts you.

And that’s where he decides, he wants to keep you forever. He wants you to officially become his. He needs to. He can’t stop thinking of you, how you are, how you know to make him feel like this. How he can talk to you about anything. Everything.

“Will you marry me?”, he blurts out. His cheeks are flushed, eyes boring into you. 

“Of course I would, baby”, you say lightly. You assumed it was just a random question, one that came because of the sensitive topic you were handling. As if he needed some reassurance.

“No”, he says, still looking to you. “I mean; Will you marry me?” His voice is different, more certain of the question.

You stare at him, knowing he’s being absolutely serious. His cheeks are still as red as they were the first time he asked you. Eyes pleading you to say yes.

It feels like you’ve been staring for seconds before you answer, even though you knew the answer straight away. “Yes”, you whisper, not being able to say anything else. You stare at him, disbelief in your eyes.

He pulls you into a deep loving kiss, one where you could feel him giving all he’s got. And it’s all for yours to have.


End file.
